


Proxy Service

by Irrealia



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adultery, Blow Jobs, F/M, Het, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot, Slash, Smut, hypothetical sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrealia/pseuds/Irrealia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So how would you do it?” Rory asks again. “If you is part of what I am to her, the least... the least I can do is be you right.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proxy Service

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this taking place somewhere mid-s5, in between _Vampires of Venice_ and _The Hungry Earth_. It's sort of slash and sort of het, and sort of genderqueer and sort of a sexy bi threesome all at once, depending on how you look at it. Poor Rory, everyone's sexual proxy...

Amy is asleep early and dead to the world, and Rory takes advantage of this to tiptoe into the console room and ask about something that's been bothering him since he's known the Doctor, which is to say, since he's known Amy.

He clears his throat and breaks the silence with: “How would you do it? If you were me, I mean, if you were in my position, how would you...” and then Rory's throat and courage simultaneously run dry.

“Do what exactly?” The Doctor looks up from the tangle of circuitry he is gently poking at with what looks like a lacquerware chopstick and peers up at Rory from underneath his hair, which had gone from the “cockamamie” end of the its style scale all the way up to “mad composer.”

“Be... with Amy,” Rory finishes vaguely.

“Don't you have plenty of opportunities to watch how I am with her already?” says the Doctor, still poking at the circuitry even though his eyes are fixed on his companion's, and cursing in fluent... something when he triggers a spark. It sounds a bit like Tuvan throat singing.

“Intimately,” offers Rory. “Be with her intimately.”

“Well, yes, of course I spend time with her intimately. We're very good friends, known her since she was all of seven,” returns the Doctor, who has moved on from poking the circuitry to poking the newly forming blister on his thumb, apparently oblivious to whether it hurts. “Blimey Rory, I don't know why you're asking me questions you already know the answer to. You really are more clever than that.”

“Sex!” Rory blurts out. “With Amy,” he adds. The Doctor finally ceases poking anything at all, because Rory has suddenly become either more interesting, appalling, or both than either the circuitry or his burn. “How would you have sex with Amy?”

“Well, I wouldn't,” said the Doctor. “She kissed me once, lovely kiss, but she was seven when I met her, Rory, and she's barely older than that now. She's a child! You're a child! I really shouldn't even be thinking about this.”

Rory gives the Doctor a bitter but familiar look, the “clueless alien” look he has to have picked up from Amy by osmosis. “I don't have the luxury of not thinking about it,” he says in a low voice. “She made me dress up as you, you know. When we were kids. I thought it would stop maybe, at some point. When we got older. Didn't though. She just... started kissing me. When I was you. She kissed me when I was me, too. Sometimes. But she always kissed me when I was you.” He licks his lips as he pauses, and then taking a deep breath, heaves out the rest. “I thought it would stop when you came back, when you stopped Prisoner Zero. When you were real and everyone could see it. But it didn't. And then I thought it would stop when you took us on board, both of us. But she just sent me off to the wardrobe to nick your jackets.”

“Well,” says the Doctor, voice slightly high and tense. “At least now I know that they didn't go missing in the wash.”

Rory doesn't laugh.

“She's never going to stop wanting you,” he says, instead. “And you're never going to give her what she wants.” It occurs to the Doctor suddenly that Rory would let him, if it would make Amy happy, if it would mean that when he had Amy, _he_ had Amy. He looks at Rory with renewed respect and interest, and resists the urge to poke him with the chopstick, examine him a bit more closely, in case he has somehow been replaced with a perverted Auton. 

“So how would you do it?” Rory asks again. “If you is part of what I am to her, the least... the least I can do is be you right.” Rory barely has time to register that while they've been talking, the Doctor has backed him up one of the staircases leading out of the console room, dropped the wiring and chopsticks, and manoeuvred him up against a wall, before he is actively pushed into it by the force of a kiss.

Since actually meeting the Doctor, Rory has had a good deal of difficulty imagining this man kissing _anyone_ , empirical evidence to the contrary. However, he's rather skilled, lips soft and mouth open and tongue teasing without being vulgar, and Rory instinctively starts to kiss him back before he realises that he is _kissing the Doctor_. He panics a bit and flails, but he doesn't have anywhere to flail _to_ , pressed between the Doctor's cool, lithe body and the warm living walls of the TARDIS, whose low background noises almost sound like an approving hum. The Doctor's clever fingers work through his short hair, petting him and calming him and bringing him back into the improbable, improbably good kiss until Rory pulls away, panting.

“I'd kiss her like that, to start with,” says the Doctor, voice thick and clogged, sweet but dark, like treacle. He finds Rory's nipple through his thin t-shirt, which isn't difficult, because you could cut glass with them right now. His fingers trace light circles around it before sliding under the shirt to give it and its fellow more direct attention. Rory flinches a bit and his breath hitches; he's not used to having so much time lavished on his unspectacular chest, even though Amy often insists that his nipples are “adorable”. But this is an object lesson in what the Doctor would do to _Amy_ , who does have a spectacular chest, and he was already pretty hard because who wouldn't be, after a kiss like that? But if it's possible, he's getting harder as he imagines the Doctor's fingers on Amy's small, perfect breasts instead, brushing over the pale skin, licking her milk-chocolate-coloured nipples into stiff, sensitive peaks just like _this_.

Rory wobbles a little and hooks his fingers into one of the circular openings in the wall for support; the Doctor hooks his fingers into the waistband of Rory's trousers. Somewhere past the blood pounding in his head he can hear the Doctor calmly lecturing him on human embryonic development, explaining that a clitoris and penis begin as identical organs in the embryonic physiology, and thus have basically similar structures and nerve endings even in sexually mature human adults, and so (freeing Rory's swollen cock with quick flicks of button and zip) he should be able to give Rory a rather nice experience that may be adjustable for Amy's pleasure, if he takes into account the smaller surface area over which the nerves are distributed.

Rory gathers that this is the Doctor's particular way of saying _I'm going to suck your cock now_ , but it doesn't really prepare him for the way his right hand wraps around the base of Rory's cock and his thumb rubs over the dewy slit at the tippy top of the head, slickening up everything. The Doctor points out almost blandly that of course Amy would be wetter, but the principle is the same. Then—“You're a nurse Rory, I'll leave the rest up to your no doubt detailed anatomical knowledge,”—and he's down on his knees, giving Rory the same sort of look of curiosity that he might give to some heretofore unseen piece of technology, before determining how most skilfully he might be manipulated, licking around the head of his cock delicately before giving it a bit of suction.

Later when he can think at all, Rory's going to remember that the Doctor is an absolutely fantastic cocksucker, and he won't know if it's because of his incredible ability to apply textbook knowledge on the fly in strange situations, a few centuries in which he might have accumulated some (a lot of?) experience, or a little bit of Column A and a little bit of Column B. But right now, all he can think is about is that fantastic suction, the rhythm of the Doctor's hand, stroking him, perfectly aligned. At the same time, one peripatetic finger inches back towards Rory's bottom, teasing him, not penetrating him, but sliding back and forth and around, providing just enough stimulation on both perineum and the soft, delicate puckered skin behind it to give the blowjob a bit of three-dimensionality, and it isn't long before he's lost it, coming hard while the Doctor sucks down every drop, wiping his sticky lips on the sleeve of his jacket and bouncing upright as if he hasn't just sucked off his friend's fiance in a corridor seemingly out of nowhere.

He leans in to Rory, who is panting still, with the force of his orgasm, and whispers in his ear: “All right, strictly speaking, you may not be able to adapt those particular techniques to human female genitalia. But! It's safe to assume that I'd be just as brilliant with her, Rory. You probably don't really want to find out, and neither do I.”

And then he picks up the wiring and chopsticks as he hops back down to the console, leaving Rory alone.


End file.
